Rumor Has It
by JavaBean
Summary: A world of love, lies and luxury with everyone watching your every move. This is the world that the infamous Mary Crawley returns to, and she's carrying back enough baggage for all. A modern AU inspired by Carson's hit cover and a tinge of Gossip Girl.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The idea for Rumor Has It first dawned on me while I was watching Gossip Girl and surfing the net for photos of the Downton cast (great multitasking, I know.). All of sudden, I came across a picture of the Downton ladies during their disco photo shoot, and it got me thinking... What if I put these characters in a modern day high school scenario? I mean, just like in Downton Abbey, the girls on Gossip Girl depend on their reputation to stay on top. Then I saw that hilarious cover of Rumor Has It by Carson on Jonathon Ross, and I just couldn't resist! It was like a sign! So, I got to writing and this is what I managed to spew out. I shan't deny how much fun I had during this process, and I hope you have as much fun reading it. Although I plan for the story to mainly center around M/M, there will appearances of S/B as well as most of the other beloved characters from the show. **

***Sadly, I do not own the characters of Downton Abbey or the concept of Gossip Girl.** **  
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><p><em>~ Rumor Mill ~<em>

_As the leaves change colours, it's time we changed out of our sundresses and shorts and donned those cute new cardigans. Welcome back to September, my dears. And what better way to kick off the new school year than with an alcohol-enthused, glittered-up party? Word on the block is that Lavinia Swire is holding another one of her fabulously ostentatious parties. Anybody who's somebody is going to be there. Did you receive that pearl trimmed invite in the mail? _

Matthew Crawley stared blankly at the undefined, pink drink in his hands. The bubbles within the substance, which had once vibrantly fought to break free of their confinements, now clung to the edges of the beautiful but heavy crystal. Occasionally one or two would casually float to the top and burst into oblivion, but it wasn't the same as the hundreds that had been eagerly making their way to escape when the bartender first poured the beverage in.

It was the signature drink of the night and, like everything else at the party, mirrored perfectly the taste of its hostess. After enduring a bland conference with a bunch of newspaper tycoons and his stepfather, he had been so excited to escape from the boredom and mingle with his own kind. However, upon his arrival, he could not help but feel that of which he was trying to avoid. He could not deny that the party was an utter success. His girlfriend Lavinia certainly understood the meaning of lavish. There was the generic live band with its hair flips and midair splits, an overflowing fountain of chocolate fondue and an open bar. The whole thing intricately followed the book, deserving an approving nod from even the most critical. But, for some odd reason, it failed to stimulate him. He was bored.

He stole a glance at Lavinia. She was in deep conversation with Evelyn Napier, though he didn't know how. The guy was an absolute bore, always talking about cars and NASCAR. Perhaps he should feel concerned about his girlfriend's fascination, which was enough to delay her noticing his arrival, but he strangely didn't. Instead, he shrugged the matter off and turned his attention to the rest of the room. She'll find him when she's done.

"Matthew! Aren't these drinks just divine?" Edith Crawley hiccupped, wobbling over and holding a familiar carbonated, rosy beverage. She clearly had had enough experience with it to know what she was talking about.

He smiled awkwardly. "Edith, are you sure you should be drinking?" The Crawleys and the Crawleys (no relation whatsoever) had been family friends long enough for Matthew to know about Edith's complete lack of alcohol tolerance.

"You're right…" She stared at her drink and frowned. "But, it's just so darn good, and everyone else was drinking it… Have you tried some? Here, try it!" She shoved the champagne glass in his hands towards his face. Matthew grimaced, suffering from the aftertaste. Unfortunately, it tasted just as it looked.

"Oh good God! You look like you just swallowed something absolutely awful. Maybe I haven't gotten a proper taste yet," She brought her own to her mouth.

"Ah, I think you tasted it plenty, Edith," Matthew plucked the drink out of her lax grip and gratefully passed hers and his to a nearby waiter.

The girl frowned and looked like she was about to argue, but was quickly distracted by her surroundings. "Doesn't Patrick look absolutely dashing this evening?"

Matthew matched her line of sight. Sure enough, across the room lounged Patrick Gordon surrounded by a flock of adoring girls. Matthew couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration.

"Who looks absolutely dashing?" An all-too-familiar voice approached him from behind. Matthew turned around to meet to the curious and amused face of his girlfriend.

"Hello, darling!" She gave a quick peck on his cheek. After watching Patrick being absolutely fawned over, he felt a little disappointed by her greeting.

"Great part-AY, Lavin-IA," Edith slurred.

"Thanks, Edith! You look great tonight," Lavinia cooed. Matthew looked at his girlfriend in disbelief. He never understood the meaning behind the words of girls. Edith clearly didn't look great, and he was sure Lavinia knew it too. The girl's face was covered by a cake of make-up that seemed to do the opposite of flattering her plain features. Her dress was ill-fitted and had ruffles in all the wrong places. Truth be told, she looked like she had borrowed from her grandmother's closet, and her recent intoxication didn't help either.

"Yes, you certainly outdid yourself this time, Liv. I think you're giving the Queen herself a good run for her money," Matthew grinned.

"Terribly clever," she said, rolling her eyes. Her response felt anticlimactic.

They were on quite different levels when it came to wit. Matthew was one who had it naturally, and Lavinia – well, she often found it annoying. Whether it was because she didn't have it herself or just didn't find the act entertaining, she was often agitated when Matthew spoke in such a manner. Knowing that a frustrated Lavinia ensured displeasure for both sides, he often avoided talking like so in front of her. But tonight, for some unexplained reason, he didn't feel like himself and seemed to act against his better senses.

"So, who is this dashing mystery man we were all discussing?" Lavinia found her way back to the purpose of the conversation.

"Edith, seems to take a fancy out of Gordon over there."

"Edith!" Lavinia gasped. "What's the matter with you? You know Patrick is never looking for a serious relationship."

Edith's already red face darkened into a whole new shade. "I know… But, just look at him!"

The trio stood there, observing the specimen. Despite Patrick's obvious bad character, no one could deny his odd but fine features. Prominent cheekbones, wisps of auburn hair and those eyes – those emerald cat-like eyes that were suddenly fixed on them. They quickly turned away, pretending to cough and stare at some interesting subject on the other side of the room.

They waited until the coast was clear. "How's Sybil doing, Edith? I thought she was coming tonight, but I can't seem to see her anywhere," Matthew asked, trying to break the tension.

"I'm sure she's around here somewhere! Perhaps striking up a conversation with Evelyn, I heard he had a soft spot for her…" Lavinia chimed in immediately. He smiled at the expression on her face, satisfied that his question had drawn the correct response from his girlfriend. It was good to know that she still cared about his interest in other girls and was not herself captivated by the allure of Evelyn Napier.

"Yes, she's probably here somewhere; she wouldn't miss out on this invite…" Edith trailed off in thought. Of course, Lavinia knew it was perfectly normal for her boyfriend to inquire about his friends. But, still, the topic was making her increasingly uncomfortable.

"C'mon Matthew, let's make some rounds!" Before Matthew could argue, she dragged him away from the still puzzled Edith.

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><p><strong>WHERE R U? <strong>

Sybil Crawley read the misspelled text from her sister. Rolling her eyes, she tossed the phone into her bag. She was supposed to be at Lavinia's obnoxious party, but instead she was sitting in a tiny, quirky café in North London. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee tingled her senses. This was far more satisfying than getting illegally wasted at some overrated party.

"Back already, are we now?" A thick Irish accent greeted her. It was Tom Branson.

"Uh… uh… Yes-ss," Sybil managed to blurt out. She avoided his steady grey eyes. Why was she so inarticulate all of the sudden? She always had a strong voice at her monthly amnesty conferences! And there she would be speaking in front of hundreds of people. But this wasn't just any person, this was Tom Branson. His dirty blonde hair was cleanly cut so you could see his large grey eyes. He was the kind of guy who didn't care about what he wore but still looked good in anything. Today, he sported faded blue jeans and a nonsensical t-shirt. Probably something related to a radical political party she never heard of, Sybil thought to herself.

"Why aren't you out having a good time? Isn't that what people like you do? Partying every other night and burning money like firewood," Tom said bitterly. He clearly held a grudge.

Sybil flinched a little; his words stung. "Not all of us are like that…" She protested.

"Well all the ones I've heard of or know, except you, of course. You're an odd one. You seem to be the complete opposite. 'Got all these doors open to you, but, instead, you spend your days in a dingy café."

"First of all, I do not just sit around here all day. I have life too. I actually just recently discovered human rights and have developed quite a passion for it…" Like he would care, stupid, Sybil reminded herself. He probably had better things to do than to stand around and listen about her pathetic attempts to get involved in the community.

"And second of all?" Tom smiled. He looked quite entertained by her rebuttal. It was the first time she had fought back against his stubborn opinions, and he liked seeing this new side of her.

Of course, Sybil viewed it as cordiality. He obviously was trying to suppress laughter, laughter at her silliness. "And second of all, is it safe to complain about your workplace environment here?" She changed the subject, unable to bear his sympathy. Although, she thought she saw a flicker of disappointment.

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I won't be a waiter forever," Tom said confidently. "But, for now… What would you like?"

"An Irish coffee!" Sybil cringed at how fast her response was. She sounded so desperate.

"Virgin, I presume?"

"WHAT? I'm not… I mean… I am… I – " She reddened. Why would he ask such a thing? She barely knew him, and the topic was clearly beyond personal.

Tom chuckled at the stuttering, flushed girl. "I meant virgin for the Irish coffee. You're clearly underage. Didn't you know it has alcohol in it?"

This was it. Sybil never thought she'd actually die of embarrassment. However, here she was, ready to crawl in a hole and wait to die. Her ploy to impress Tom had turned a full 180o. Where were the classy graces that had been passed down to her from generations when she needed them?

"Oh… Yes, I knew that…" The chime of her phone interrupted her.

"Mhm, sure you did," Tom chuckled, shaking his head and walking away. Could this day get any worse? Sybil thought bitterly.

She pulled her phone out of her bag. It was glaring with a new post from the Rumor Mill. Edith had set her phone to receive alerts from the website. It was basically a gossip column that revolved around the privileged young community of London, meaning her classmates. Her sister had explained to her that it was important to be in the know about the people Sybil went to school with. But, most of the time, the stuff posted on it was pure rubbish and superficial. Stuff about parties, pregnancies, arrests… One could do way more useful things with the number of viewers the website held, like spread awareness on poverty, third world countries or local politics. She was about to ignore the message when a name caught her eye.

_Mary._

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><p>"Oh yes, Matthew and I are very excited for my first debutant ball!" Lavinia mused. She was so busy discussing her fall social plans with Anthony Strallan that she did not notice how dull the topic seemed to Matthew.<p>

"Liv never misses out on an opportunity to be in the spotlight these days," Matthew joked. Lavinia shot him a rancorous look.

"Nor I. I love a good show where girls get to flaunt their best assets." Anthony's attempt to echo Patrick Gordon failed terribly and further rubbed salt in the wound.

Luckily, however, the awkward conversation was brought to a halt by the melody of Lavinia's phone. Then Matthew's. And Anthony's. Soon the whole room was filled with the unified tune of technology.

_~ Rumor Mill ~_

_Sorry to sour the celebration mood, but I just received an anonymous tip on London's very own Mary Crawley. Word on the street is that she just hopped off the train from Yorkshire, and, judging by the size of her Louis Vuitton luggage, she's not just visiting. She's thinner, her eyes are darker, her hair is shinier; in conclusion, she's dropper and deader gorgeous than ever, which means she's here to steal the hearts of our boyfriends, our parents and our teachers. Maybe L should watch out because, not only does she have competition for queen bee, but, last time we heard, Matthew had a little crush on our returning veteran. Though, can we really blame him? Anyways, the real question we're all aching to ask is what made her leave in the first place? And why is she back? _

"No way!" Ethel Parks cried out.

"This can't be true. I thought she was deported or something," Daisy Robinson exclaimed.

"She wasn't deported, dummy. She was sent off to live with her grandmother in her family's hometown. Anyways, the Rumor Mill never lies. If she's back, she's back. And they got a picture to prove it!" Patrick scrolled down the screen to reveal a picture of the ghost herself – porcelain skinned, long legged, with a haunting look on her face.

"So what does this mean?" Daisy demanded. She was completely clueless, as usual.

"It means, Daisy, that things are going to get a whole lot more interesting around here." It was Thomas Barrow who responded this time. He had somehow integrated himself into the flock of girls surrounding Patrick.

Across the room, Lavinia just stared at the screen. _Judging by the size of her Louis Vuitton luggage, she's not just visiting._ Everything suddenly seemed so surreal. The laughter of the crowd was stifled, the gossiping murmurs were muffled, and even the blaring music seemed to have stopped. The whole world was spinning around her. _Not only does she have competition for queen bee, but also, last time we heard, Matthew had a little crush._

She stole a glance at Matthew. His clear blue eyes were glued to the picture of Mary and now seemed hazy. Her hands were shaking. _She's here to steal the hearts of our boyfriends, our parents and our teachers. _

Mary had disappeared without a trace two years ago. Lavinia still remembered that day. They were supposed to get brunch, but, when she rang the doorbell of her luxurious house, the maid answered and told her that she had skipped town, gone to Yorkshire. No note, no reason.

She also remembered how quickly she thought she had gotten over it. Without Mary, there was nobody to eclipse her, and she quickly became the shining star of Downton Academy. However, now, staring back into the sad eyes of the girl in the photo, her stomach knotted in a billion ways. She knew she wasn't quite over her abandonment.

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><p>Matthew stood there, transfixed at the photo of the girl. Even on the Internet, Mary seemed to see right through him. He always wondered how she did that. How she could read his mind before he even opened his mouth to speak. How she could sense the quickening of his pulse every time she got close.<p>

Was it possible that she had gotten even more beautiful? He wondered, if she saw him, she would still feel… The same feelings that were suddenly renewed in his own heart. They clouded his mind, trickled down his spine and numbed his toes. They covered him whole.

What is wrong with you? You have Lavinia remember?

Lavinia. He remembered the first time he saw her. She was running up the marble steps of the school – after Mary. She looked adorable with her natural frizzy red hair and thick black-rimmed glasses, which were all gone now. The outfit she wore was an obvious attempt to copy her friend; however, somehow, she just couldn't wear it as well. Maybe it was because of the way Mary presented herself, Matthew couldn't recall a single day the girl slouched.

The first time she talked to him was when Mary was throwing her first set of daggers she called insults at Matthew. Lavinia had tried to placate Mary and shield him from the agony.

"I heard you were the new student?" Mary acknowledged him that day. It was the first time she had talked to him since his arrival at Downton two months before, even though she sat right in front of him in Literature. They were studying Greek mythology.

"Well… Not that new, not anymore," Matthew stuttered. He had completely been taken by surprise when the girl started to talk to him. Perhaps she was going to confront him on his staring. He would not be surprised if he had drilled a hole on her perfect back with his eyes, but he couldn't resist. There was something about her that always caused him to gravitate towards.

"You transferred right? From a _state school_?" Mary spat those words out like they were poison. The look on her face showed obvious disapproval.

"Uh yes, Mother thought this place would be a better fit for me," He felt unsure and uneasy about where the repartee was going.

"Your mother lacks perception," Mary snapped, eyeing him from head to toe. "You clearly don't belong here."

Matthew felt self-conscious all of a sudden. Something he never accredited himself with. He had never been one of those boys who dressed to impress; he had always felt perfectly comfortable in his hoodies and track pants. It was practical. He didn't like to bother changing into something as uncomfortable as jeans after lacrosse practices in the morning.

"Okay class, please turn to Chapter 2 on page 191 of your books," Mr. Carson commanded. "We're going to start the story of Andromeda today, one of my personal favorites."

"Besides, the only reason you can afford to go here is that your mother is the new Mrs. Carlisle. Everyone in the school knows. It was splattered across the front page of Hello! Magazine." Mary added before turning around to face the board.

"Mary, that was a little uncalled for," Lavinia whispered across from her. She shot Matthew an apologetic look.

"Ah Ms. Smith, would you care to give us a summary of the story." Mr. Carson smirked, enjoying the pain he caused on his poor victim, Anna Smith. Anna was a timid blonde recluse. Her bangs always hid one side of her face from view, and she often sat alone with a sketchbook and charcoal during lunch hour.

How could she be so cruel? What did he ever do to her?

"Uh… um… well, Andromeda was a girl. She was a princess"

"Yes, I rather assumed she was a girl and that, since she was a girl, she was a princess and not the male counterpart. But, thank you for pointing the obvious out, Ms. Smith." The class roared with laughter. Anna further buried herself in her textbook, shoulders hunched up in shame.

Just because she was rich, powerful and pretty, didn't mean she could just trample on other people like dirt.

"Let's pick on someone else, shall we? Ah you, Ms. Crawley. You seem rather comfortable in your seat. Could you elaborate on Ms. Smith's rather descriptive synopsis?"

He didn't deserve this kind of treatment.

"Andromeda's father was King Cepheus whose country was being ravaged by storms. And, in the end, he decided the only way to appease the gods was to sacrifice his eldest daughter to a hideous sea monster. So, they chained her, naked to a rock –"

"Goodness, Ms. Crawley, we may all need our smelling salts in a minute! Please keep it family friendly?"

"But, the sea monster didn't get her, did he?" All eyes were on Matthew, amazed by the courage of the new student. They nervously shifted to Mary and waited to see her response to her stolen spotlight.

"No, just when they thought she was the only solution to her father's problems, she was rescued," Mary gave a tight smile, but she did not turn around to meet the boy's eyes.

"By Perseus," Matthew had cut in. Watching her wreathe in silent wrath had been rather entertaining.

"That's right! Perseus, the son of a God. Rather more fitting, wouldn't you say?" She twisted to look back at Matthew, eyebrows raised and sure that she had won.

"That depends, I'd have to know more about the princess and sea monster in question," he responded indignantly.

The class fell silent. For a second, he thought he saw a flash of shock set on her face. However, it quickly disappeared, and an amused smile played at the corners of her mouth.

That was the moment Matthew knew he had won her over. He had made the cold and supposedly heartless Lady Mary smile – well, kind of – and it was amazing how quickly they became friends after that, despite their vast differences.

After all, she had been brought up in a family of wealth and privilege, while he was raised by a middle class family in the suburbs. He was a liberal, and she was a conservative. He liked to spend his personal days holed up in a library, whilst she enjoyed shopping on Bond Street with the paparazzi at her tail. They constantly bickered whenever they were with one another, like an old couple Lavinia would joke. And any bystander would quite agree with her. They would argue about where to eat, what to listen to – the most trivial things sparked their belligerence. But, others never understood how it was. It was like arguing was their way of communication; it was their thing. For some odd reason, this was what made them closer, closer to the point that he could not get her out of his mind. It seemed the more flaws Matthew found in her, the more perfect she became in his eyes. However, even though he saw her as more, their friendship remained the same. He didn't want to risk it – sure that she had not felt the same way.

Until the night before she left…

He had tried to find her and talk the morning after because it was obvious they had things to sort out, but he found Lavinia crying on the steps. Repressing his own hurt, Matthew reached out and comforted his other friend. They had brunch that day. And coffee the next. And dinner after that until meeting outside of school became a daily ritual.

What started out as a support group over equal loss gradually turned into an unbalanced exchange of affection till one night, after a viewing of My Best Friend's Wedding (Lavinia's choice), she kissed him. He was shocked at first, of course, because he had never seen Lavinia in that way before. He loved her, yes, but he had always felt it more like a brother to a sister than anything else. Nevertheless, when she kissed him, she unleashed emotions he never thought he could feel towards her. It was a bold move, especially for Lavinia, and she left him open-mouthed.

The following day, at school, she walked up to him and slipped her hand into his, informing everyone that they were an item. Matthew was too overwhelmed and confused to argue. Reflecting on it all, he actually didn't have much say in the matter. Things just fell into place after that. And he just went along with it.

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><p>Mary Crawley pushed the heavy door of the train station and stepped onto the dirty streets of London. She was greeted by the smell of fresh rain and gas exhaust. Yep, it was London all right. Noise pollution filled the air, and hurried businessmen bumped past her, completely oblivious to the girl standing in the middle of the sidewalk with five suitcases in hand. For once in her life, she felt invisible, and there was something novel and comforting about it.<p>

They should really invest in some doormen, she thought as she wiped the imaginary germs off of her sleeve. The air was cool but warm enough to be without a jacket, leaving her new silk blouse exposed to external contact.

Shimmying her way through the sea of people, she finally made it to the curb. Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to wear the blouse after all; she frowned down at the newfound furrows on her shirt. Without the impenetrable bulwark of bodies, the sunlight streamed down on her. She squinted, not remembering London being so sunny.

Once her eyesight adjusted, Mary gave one elegant wave and stopped three taxis. Relishing in her triumph, she picked the one closest to her. The driver immediately got out – people were so compliant to her. But, instead of helping her with the bags, he turned his back to open the door of the backseat. To her astonishment, her youngest sister slid out.

"You didn't think you could arrive quietly, could you? Even that stupid Rumor Mill spotted you!"

"Well, one could only hope…" Mary stared slightly open-mouthed at her sister. She has changed quite a lot in the last two years! Sure she saw pictures, but they were all so practiced and proper. Here, Mary saw her 15-year-old sister in her true form. It was clear that she had blossomed in the last two years. But it wasn't her sister's newfound curves that surprised her, but her newfound fashion. If one could call it fashion…

She wore ripped distressed jeans that showed off her left knobby knee in an unflattering manner. Her upper half thankfully was better covered with a simple white tank top and an oversized open cardigan, but still wasn't any better. The travesty was completed with a pair of 'vintage' cowboy boots that were scuffed to the point that one could barely recognize their true colour. Mary swore that any one who didn't read the society section could pass her sister up as a hobo.

"What the hell are you wearing?" She finally formed the words.

Her sister laughed charmingly, and, for a brief moment, Mary caught a glimpse of her kid sister again. Sybil sympathetically patted Mary on the shoulder. "I missed you sis, but you've missed out on quite a bit!"

Mary was about to speak when the driver banged on his horn. "Are you two going somewhere or what?"

"Can't you wait a second? If it will make you feel better, keep the meter running." Mary sneered.

"It's okay! We'll talk on the way," Sybil said, steering her sister towards the car.

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><p><strong>Well, that concludes Chapter One of the saga. What did you guys think? Should I keep on going? Please submit a review and let me know!<br>**I apologize for any Westernisms in this... I tried to research as much about the UK school system as I could, but that still can't change the fact that I don't actually live there unfortunately. :( That being said, if any one of you lovely readers is interested picking my story apart, please contact me! :)**  
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	2. Chapter 2

**Hey, guys! It's been a long time, but it's finally here. Chapter 2. Sorry about the wait... Schoolwork was really piling up, and I had a prolonged case of writer's block. Anyways, now it's summer, so I have more time to write. I hope you enjoy, and happy Canada day! :)**

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><p>Mary laid her head against the cab window. Despite how dirty it probably was and how many unwashed heads it probably had touched, she needed something to rest her head against. She loved her sister dearly, but, when it came to conversation, it was one she never willingly sought with her. Sybil was droning on now about her involvement with the amnesty club, something Mary could not understand. Why in the world would some one waste several solid hours of the day on mingling with commoners? Even putting aside the sanitation issues, it was extremely un-ladylike to scream at the top of one's lungs over a sea of voices. A proper lady would wait until everyone has silenced. That's what Granny would say at least. She smiled a little at the thought.<p>

Why couldn't she rebel like normal teenagers her age do? Go to a party or drink or something like that? Instead, her darling sister chooses to stay in a stuffy room with a bunch of stuffy people trying to evoke change that will never happen.

"… And then _Matthew_," her sister continued.

"What did you say?" Sybil grinned at Mary's sudden attention.

"I was just complaining about how dreadfully unfair Papa is. He totally had a cow when he found out about my involvement in the protest – unnecessarily, of course. I was perfectly fine." She was playing coy.

"No, no, I meant the other thing."

"Oh! You mean Matthew." Sybil feigned surprise. "Well, he and Lavinia spotted me, and Matthew immediately insisted on taking me home. He even threatened to carry me!"

"How very Matthew of him," Mary muttered to herself.

"Hmm?"

"Oh! Nothing. Have he and Lavinia been hanging out a lot recently?" Mary tried to maintain the cool tone in her voice.

"I say, why do you care so much about Matthew? I just told you that, according to Papa, I was practically in mortal danger!"

"Just answer the damn question, Sybil." Mary didn't mean to snap, and she didn't know why she did.

"Jesus, who peed in your garden?" Sybil frowned.

"I'm sorry, Sybil. I really don't know what came over me. Can we just drop the subject and forget I said anything?" Mary turned her attention back to the window. She _really_ didn't know what came over her. Why would she care about whom Matthew spent his time with? She wasn't his keeper.

Sybil sighed. She had been trying to put the topic off for long enough. It was time to face it. "Matthew and Lavinia are… That is they're…"

Mary kept her eyes on the uniform stream of grey concrete buildings. She couldn't distinguish from where one ended and the other began. They all looked the same, and, in it, were the same kind of people, people who once had extraordinary dreams but have long since subdued them to accommodate the rigid, confined structure of the box.

"I see," were the words she found herself forming. She didn't want to, but she did.

"And… you're okay with what you see?" Sybil ventured tentatively.

"Absolutely. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Are you sure?" Sybil hesitated. Although she could not see her face and, even if she could, she would not have been able to read it, Sybil had known her sister long enough to pay no attention to the things she says.

"Positive." Mary forced a smile and turned to her sister to give reassurance. "Honestly, Sybil, you seem more concerned than I am. We were only friends after all! It's not like we were going to get married or something."

"Yes, of course, but –"

"Do Mama and Papa know about my arrival?"

Sybil looked at her in disbelief. "I think so. Edith would have probably told them by now; she never misses out on a single update from the Rumor Mill. Mary…"

"Good. They probably will have already asked the cook to prepare something. I'm starving." Mary shifted back to face the window. She didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Yes, I'd presume you are…" They sat for the rest of the trip in silence so much so that the driver turned on the radio to the strong tune of Rumor Has It.

"_She, she ain't real._

_She aint gon' be able love you like I will._

_She is a stranger._

_You and I have history or don't you remember?  
>Sure, she's got it all but baby is that really want you want?"<em>

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><p>"Edith, it's time to go home." Matthew helped the disoriented girl into a waiting cab.<p>

"No, I don't want to. One more drink."

"Party's over. You're parents will be worried about you."

She braced herself at the entrance. "But, it isn't even dark yet! You know me Matthew: I never get drunk. Ever!"

That was true. It was extremely uncharacteristic of the girl to get herself in a situation like this. Shortly after the Rumor Mill's update, the party was in an uproar, buzzing with the latest piece of gossip. Somehow this irked Lavinia, and she had sent everyone home.

"I've always been the good egg, you know? The _rrrresponsible _one. But, no one ever notices the responsible one. Sybil's got her free radical organizations that practically send Papa's head through the roof. I swear, last week he turned fifteen shades of purple after he found about the protest. And then there's always Mary… Mary, Mary, Mary… You know you'd think they'd get punished or something, but they don't. They get all the attention, the looks, the boys, and I'm just there, drifting in the middle."

"Oh, Edith, you know –" What was he supposed to say?

"I know? What do I know? She should have been punished that's what I know. She can't just be let off the hook just like that. She thinks that, as soon as she runs away, everyone will just forget. Just like that." She snapped her fingers. "Perhaps… Perhaps people will go back to idolizing her and drooling in her wake, but I'm not going to forget. I _know._ I know her true side. And others should too."

What was she talking about? Edith's words awakened his curiosity. Matthew had been in this world long enough to know how it was run. Families may seem perfect on the outside, but within… There were often many skeletons in their closets. And sometimes, the number of skeletons grew to exceed that of closets. And that was when something was bound to slip up such as in this case.

Maybe she had the answers to Mary's abrupt departure. Suddenly, he was no longer in such a hurry. "Are you talking about Mary, Edith? Edith, what do you know?" However, he was only responded to by the sound of gentle snoring.

* * *

><p>For some strange reason, she remembered the house being much smaller.<p>

Mary waited as her sister paid for the cab. Sybil had refused to let her do so, afraid that she would make another snide comment on the driver's driving capabilities and refuse to tip. Of course, she laughed at how silly those ideas were. After all, the man needed all the money he could get to pay his way back into driving school. Or find another career.

"Ready to face the sharks?" Her sister appeared by her side, and, for a moment, they just stood there, admiring the view.

"I'm not quite sure. When I was in Yorkshire, I ached to hear my heels click against the pavements. But, now that I'm actually here, Yorkshire seems a lot less…"

"Polluted?"

Mary rolled her eyes. Here we go again. "No. Overbearing…"

"Funny, isn't it? That we have ALL of this whilst children in third world countries are starving."

This time she expressed her agony through a groan. "Here we go again. Save some for dinner, will you? That way, you'll distract them from talking about me." She started towards the large ornamented, oak doors.

* * *

><p>"Well that was the last of them." Matthew closed the heavy door behind him. To his surprise, he found Lavinia picking up streamers along with the rest of the cleaning staff.<p>

"Okay, good. Thanks for the help… You can go to now if you want. I got the place basically covered," Lavinia said without looking at him.

"I can, but I won't. You don't have to do this, you know. That's why you hired the cleaning staff," Matthew remained rooted at the door. Not because he wanted to leave, but because, for some reason, Lavinia's body language screamed, "PROCEED WITH CAUTION."

"Right because working is an appalling action for some one with my social status." Lavinia muttered, moving on to sponging the oak table.

"Lavinia, I didn't say that. I admire your apathy to your social stance, rather." Her anger was like a ticking bomb. Once agitated, it began its countdown. 10…

"So, you're saying that I lack the proper societal mannerisms." 9…

"No, no, no! I just meant that –" 8...

"That what? That I should be grateful you even deign to hang out with me at all?" 7…

"What are you –" 6…

"You know, since I'm obviously such an embarrassment to be around. Well, I'm sorry." 5…

"Lavinia, you never –" 4…

"I bet that Mary doesn't embarrass you." 3…

"What does Mary have –" 2…

1… "Why are you with me, anyways? She's HERE. GO TO HER." It was an explosion of tears. "Spare me the pity party. I know all about it. Oh poor Lavinia. She'll never be as pretty as Mary. She'll never have the social graces like Mary. She'll never have Mary's money. After all, her father had to WORK her family's way into this social circle. Well, I had enough. You can leave for all I care, Matthew. I don't – no, I can't stand – your pity."

"Oh Liv, how could you even say such a thing?" Matthew stepped tentatively towards her. "I'm not with you because I pity you."

"Really now?" She sniffled.

"Really." He said, walking even closer towards her. "I'm with you because I _love _you... and perhaps of Juanita's cooking."

She laughed, lightening the tension. "You do love the cook's chocolate cake… Then again, you love anyone's chocolate cake, so I don't know how I should feel about that."

"Well I especially _love _Juanita's. In fact, I adore it." Matthew laced his fingers through those of his red-eyed girlfriend. Now they were only a breath away from one another, and he could see the leftover trails of the already forgotten tears.

"Well then… I'd have to let her know that," Lavinia whispered, rubbing her thumb across Matthew's hand.

"I guess you should. But, maybe another time." And they kissed with the subject of Mary completely forgotten.

* * *

><p>"Mary! You're here, darling." Cora Crawley pulled her daughter into an awkward embrace.<p>

"Yes, Mama. Didn't you know?" Mary said in her sweetest voice.

"How could we? You never bothered to tell us. Unless we have some secret telepathic powers that even we ourselves do not know about, we would not have known." Robert Crawley walked towards his wife and estranged daughter. Never to disappoint, he was dressed in a suit and tie.

Before Mary could make a snide remark, Sybil spoke up. "Well, Mary and I assumed that Edith would have told you already."

"Edith, isn't home yet, which is so unlike her. You two, maybe. But not her." Once again, Cora was going on one of her _what-did-I-deserve-to-get-these-kind-of-daughters_ tangents.

"I'm sure that she'll be home soon, Mama," Sybil soothed.

"Yes, I wouldn't be too worried. Knowing Edith, she probably will put a stop to the party with her dreariness."

"That's enough, Mary," her father snapped. "We do not talk about our own family members in that manner. If we did, think about what things would be said about you right now. You, of all people, understand that talk is never good."

Silence enveloped the room. It was obvious that a forbidden topic had been revisited.

"I'm sorry," Mary whispered. It was a novel phrase for her to say.

"You're sorry? Ha! Well, I guess everything will be alright once you're sorry." Robert said. "It will fix –"

"Robert, that's enough." Cora hissed, looking behind her. "What is it, Danielle?"

"S-s-sorry to be a bother, ma'am, but dinner is ready..." The frightened maid squeaked.

"Of course, it is. And in good time too!" The girls' mother had returned to her regular pleasantry. However, it was hard to miss the last death glance she threw at her own husband. "Come along, everybody!

Following the quick pace of the matriarch, the Crawleys found their way to the grand dining hall. It was often used for elegant dinner parties. During which, the guests would dress in long couture gowns or suits. First there would be the cocktails with penguin-suited waiters waddling around to take orders. Then the appetizers, which would often be found in similar silver trays. Finally, the actual dinner would occur, if one could call it a dinner, at all. An innumerable number of courses would be served, some of which were rare enough to be still referred by names as ancient as those of the Greeks. Small talk would be made, gossip would be spread, it was the prime place to be on a Sunday night and everybody wanted an invite. If anything, Cora Crawley knew how to turn the simple concept of a dinner party into the modish must-be event it is today. Or was… The revelry seemed to have left with Mary's departure, and the Crawleys had receded into only their family circle.

The room was now gloomily empty. Without the heavily ornamented people, the dining hall has lost its luster. All it was now was an old room with old paintings and a far too long, old table. Dinner was set on the far end of the table. Despite its expensive place settings and cutlery, they could not cover the emptiness of the hall and only added further imbalance.

They sat down to a friendly plate of pot roast and mashed potatoes, and began to eat. The first half of the meal was consumed in the cacophony of metal touching plate and nothing else.

"Why do we always have to have pot roast, mum?" Sybil asked, playing with the gravy on her potatoes. It was runny.

"What do you mean, honey? We never have the same meal consecutively."

"Plus, if there's nothing you like, I'm sure the cook can whip up anything you want. Knowing Mama, we probably have London's finest," Mary added, hacking away at her pot roast. Unlike her sister's need for change, she was quite satisfied with the way things were. She needed some stability in her life.

"Oh, could I?" Now, Sybil was excited.

"Depends on what you're planning on requesting," her father asked. From past experience, Robert knew better than to permit any of her daughter's requests before knowing the details.

"Well, have any of you ever tried Peruvian food? I heard it's absolutely divine."

"Food from Peru? Do not tell me this is part of your bohemian phase, Sybil. I may not be able to control what you do outside of this house, but I can certainly do so inside."

"I have…" The comment drew all eyes to the mother. "What? Americans like to try new things." Cora never let the family forget her proud roots.

"Perhaps we can have it at Mary's party?" Sybil wondered absentmindedly.

"Party? What party?" Mary almost lit up to the idea.

"Sybil! We were supposed to tell her after dinner!" Cora was clearly upset with the sudden turn of events.

"_What party?"_

"Well, in honor of your arrival, we decided to reinstate my famous dinner parties!"

Mary's face dropped. "So the same guest list?"

"Of course, my dear! Who else would I invite? Danielle and friends?" Her mother was laughing at how ridiculous this question was.

"I don't think it's such a good idea, Mama," Mary persisted. She couldn't face _them_, not now. She wasn't ready.

"Nonsense, darling. We need some way to reintroduce you into the circle. This dry spell has gone on for far too long!" Cora insisted, completely oblivious to her daughter's motivations.

"Your dry spell. Or mine?" She muttered. This event was clearly not for her, but for Cora Crawley.

"You are going this Sunday and that's final. You owe your mother this Mary. She did not go through all the hard work, only to cancel." This time it was her father's turn to speak, and it was clear that he was no longer referring to the party.

Once again, the silence came. However, this time it was interrupted by the slamming of a door.

"MamaaAAAA, I'm home!" A very drunk Edith was the first to speak.

"Is she -?" Sybil began, trying to stifle the giggles. Her question was answered by the sound of retching.

"That better not be the new antique vase I got. I should probably go check on it." With that, she left to tend to the new problem.

"Mary, if it's your attire you're worried about, we can go shopping tomorrow." Sybil tried blindly to comfort her sister.

Mary smiled weakly, trying not to disclose that the dress was the least of her worries.

* * *

><p>"How about this?" Sybil held up sky blue asymmetrical dress.<p>

"Sybil, no! That barely covers anything." Mary said in shock.

"It fits the dress code. It's long, in the back at least. Besides, it's for me not you." Her rebellious sister explained.

"Well for you, it's perfect." She laughed. It was a weird sensation, for it had been a very long time since she felt vaguely happy. But shopping tends to do that.

"I'm going to go try it on."

"Here, take these." Mary passed a pair of designer jeans her way. "To go with the shirt."

"Hardy har har," Sybil rolled her eyes. "I'll be right back."

With no distractions, Mary could finally concentrate on finding her own dress. Running fabrics through her fingers, she forgot how great it felt to legitimately shop. These days she did most of her shopping online. True, her immaculate fashion sense never failed her but the sensation was never the – there it was.

To her left was the perfect dress. It was a cream colour to avoid the whole wedding dress feel and was strapless. There were two layers of fabric. The innermost was silk to avoid any revealing and the outer was sheer. The sheer folded at the bust to bring pronouncement and cascaded into a waterfall of fabric at the legs. It was beautiful.

Mary reached to touch this soul mate frock but instead found her hands on top of some bigger, more calloused ones. Judging by the hands, this girl definitely would not fit in the size nor would she be suited to wear it. Mary decided that she needed to save her from the embarrassment.

"Um excuse me, I got here first," she reasoned.

"Pardon me, I wasn't…" The voice sounded familiar and definitely did not belong to a girl.

"Matthew?" Mary exclaimed, pushing the hanger back to meet a pair of very, very shocked blue eyes.

"Mary! I – I – " He stuttered.

It was so unlike him to be at a lost of words. But then again, it was so unlike him to be with Lavinia, so she was not one to judge. "I didn't take you as a cream kind of girl."

Nothing was going his way. Playing this moment numerous times in his head, Matthew thought he was prepared. But clearly he wasn't, for in no way was this the way he wanted to see her again. He couldn't think. How was he supposed to reply to that? With another joke? Instead, he laughed. Awkwardly. Very awkwardly.

"What's so funny? Matthew, did you find another naked mannequin again?" From behind Matthew came another familiar voice. Once in Mary's line of sight, the face of the red-haired girl dropped. "Oh, you're not a naked mannequin."

"Hello, Liv. It certainly is nice to see you again!" Mary plastered her best smile and hugged the petite girl.

"Yes, you too." Lavinia avoided eye contact. It certainly was NOT nice to see her again.

"I was just about to call you over," Matthew explained, trying to save his skin. He could sense the strain.

"I'm sure you were, Matthew." Lavinia said through gritted teeth.

"Terribly sorry, I distracted him." This caught the other girl's attention. Mary couldn't be this blatant, could she?

"We got in a little spat, over who should try on this dress. Though, I was only trying to save Matthew the misery. He would look terrible in cream." Mary continued, issuing a sigh of relief from Matthew.

"Yes. Well… I think you should let Mary have it, don't you? It's the gentleman thing to do."

Matthew smiled. "Yes. How could I ever think otherwise? Of course, you can have it. I'm sure I can find something else."

"Well, how do I look?" Out of the blue and in blue walked Sybil. Despite her utter disdain for the dress, Mary would help but admit how beautiful her baby sister looked. The dress brought out her best features, including her eyes.

"You look beautiful, darling."

"Do I? I think I do too. It's – Matthew!" Her sister said in shock, turning her focus away from her dress. The current situating was far more interesting. "And Lavinia!" The second acknowledgement had a tone of disappointment. Mary looked at her warningly, afraid of what she might say.

"Hi, Sybil! How are you?" Lavinia showed her ability to take the higher ground by giving the younger Crawley a peck on both cheeks.

"Pretty well now that my sister's in town. Did you hear, Liv? She's staying for good." Sybil batted her eyelashes and looped her arm around her sister, watching the ginger simmer.

"Yes, it was all over the Rumor Mill during my party. Terrible shame you weren't there, Sybil, it was a blast. Where were you anyways?" Lavinia asked innocently, putting her arm markingly around Matthew.

Mary tried to decode her unreadable sister. What did Lavinia mean? "Well, I'm sure that piece of gossip will soon be forgotten." She said, shaking off her sister. She hated when Sybil tried to fight _her_ battles.

"So will your party," Sybil muttered, earning an elbow jab from her sister. "Ow!"

"Yes, both Matthew and I received Cora's invitation. Though, you only had to send me the invite. We would have both gotten the message when it arrived this morning." Lavinia giggled, squeezing Matthew's arm. The boy looked uncomfortable. Today was just a series of failed expectations. He had dreamed of being in Patrick Gordon's shoes, but this definitely was not how he imagined being surrounded by a group of girls.

"Will we see you there then?" Mary questioned, out of common etiquette rather than desire. She tried to ignore the protective hand on Matthew.

"Probably, unless we find something better to do."

"What Liv means is that we're sure it will be amazing, Mary. Knowing Cora Crawley," Matthew added, trying to soften his girlfriend's rudeness.

"Yes, Matthew is right. But, I'm just saying that there are also other things to do on a Sunday night. You wouldn't know about them, Mary. They're recent, and you've been gone for a while…" Her grip on Matthew tightened.

"I understand."

"Anyways, we have to go. More errands to run! It was nice seeing you, Sybil!" Lavinia began to turn away.

"And Mary. It was really nice to see you again, Mary." For a moment, they just looked each other, both searching for answers.

"Come along, Matthew. _We have errands to run._" Lavinia tugged at her boyfriend.

"See you around!" He smiled before almost jogging after his very unhappy girlfriend.

"Can you believe her?" Sybil asked. "I can't believe you two were ever friends. Ugh, just ignore her. Did you find a dress?"

"Yeah…" Mary was lost in thought. "I did." Sunday night just got a whole lot more interesting.

~_Rumor Mill~_

_Spotted on Bond Street, Sybil putting the rebel in fashion, and M and M fight over the same frock while Lavinia is cast in the dark. Just like old times. I missed the trio, didn't you? Though, I can't speak for Lavinia. Poor girl. Can't wait to see what Sunday night will bring.  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>That's it! Hope you enjoyed this latest installment and, as usual, comments will always be appreciated. Next chapter? The dinner party. And I guarantee some serious drama.<strong>_  
><em>


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